


Anxiety

by I_Will_Achieve_Vikturi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, But Not Much, Cuddling, M/M, Nausea, Panic Attacks, Sick Katsuki Yuuri, Skating, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Vomiting, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 05:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Will_Achieve_Vikturi/pseuds/I_Will_Achieve_Vikturi
Summary: Yuri was always susceptible to stress. Viktor finds this out the hard way when he has a meltdown on the bloodstained ice and he is all that can bring him back to reality.





	Anxiety

Yuri was awake early this morning, unable to find more than an hour of sleep at a time. Every time he fell into slumber he would have the same dream: he would be on the ice in competition when something happened. He could never remember what it was, but the next thing he knew he was up out of bed getting dressed. He glanced over at an outfit hanging in his closet, contemplating whether or not he should wear it. It was his skating outfit for his free program, the deep purple shirt that glittered in the light, and the black pants that went with it. No, he thought, he shouldn't be gone for long. Hopefully he'll be back before Viktor wakes up. So instead he threw on a casual shirt and loose sweatpants and grabbed his skates, leaving quietly so as not to rouse anyone from their own dreams.

The cool dawn air slapped him in the face upon exiting Yu-topia, the chill snapping him awake in a near instant. He welcomed the refreshing wind ruffling his hair, and he breathed it in and savored it deeply. He always loved the refreshing spring air, the scent of the blooming flowers and budding trees that dotted Hasetsu revitalizing his senses. He relished in the relaxation that it brought with it, thinking for a second of Feudal Japan and how abundant this must have been back then. He even pictured Viktor in a traditional Japanese kimono, perched high up in the branches of an old tree of budding pink flowers, breathing out a tune with an equally old flute, just as he had seen in paintings. He blushed slightly at the image.

But then he frowned; Viktor was the problem, the reason he was heading to the Ice Palace in the first place. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear such thoughts from his mind, and for the most part he was successful, thinking back once more to the image he had of Vitya.

The Ice Palace loomed over him before he even had time to think about it, for which he was grateful as he stepped inside the empty building. Not even Yuuko was there at the moment, it was so early. He headed into the back room, where he strapped on his skates and entered the rink, his thoughts now cleared and his mind on naught but the reflective sheet of ice beneath his feet.

With attained grace and an innate beauty, he began his slow routine with a twirl, one hand raised outward. His skates guided him across the frozen pool with ease and a comforting sway. His first planned jump for this improvised program was the quad toe loop, which he transitioned into slowly and carefully. The effort was not shown in his features as he rotated about four consecutive times before landing backwards with a flourish. The only sign of error was the slight wobble of his foot upon turning forwards and executing the flying sit spin. Despite the cold in the rink, a heat blush settled on his cheeks as the program carried on.

He soon grew restless, the previous thoughts returning to him one by one, until he tripped up on the step sequence and disrupted the flow of the skate sequence. Overeager to escape the inevitable, he entered the sequence of footfalls leading to Viktor's signature move, the quad flip. He lifted off the ice by the picks of his right skate and flipped about in the air, but then he was distracted. An image of Viktor flashed through his mind in a brief instant, throwing him off just long enough to fall flat on his face. He rolled a few times and slid into the wall, leaving behind a trail of blood on the way.

There on the ice he lay still, the tears streaming down his face and the blood leaving his head where it was scraped. Unholy scream-sobbing ensued when the illusions persisted, to the point where he could just barely be heard outside the Ice Palace. Nobody was around, however, and for that he was grateful; the last thing he wanted was to be fussed over, or for anyone to see him in his current state. He didn't want to seem so helpless. He didn't want to feel so helpless. On shaking feet he stood, only making it two strides before collapsing again in a miserable heap. He found himself hyperventilating at present, but he did nothing to help himself. It's not like he could anyway. His heart raced and hammered against his chest. He felt as though he could vomit. His vision blackened slowly. He curled up into a tight ball and shivered.

...

"Yuri! Yuri, wake up! Can you hear me? YURI!"

He was brought back from near unconsciousness by a concerned voice. But in his current mindset the volume of the voice was taken as a threat. A hand on his trembling back was what did it for him. His heart leapt out of his body as well as the rest of his waning sanity. He backed away, eyes wide and unfocused, kicking up ice with the blades of his skates. He raised an arm in defense and his breathing became increasingly unstable and raspy. Viktor gazed at the confused and clearly panicked Yuri with a look of worry in his eye. He was also acutely aware of the blood dripping from his head, down his face, mixing with his tears, and finally staining the ice red. The most noticeable factor was the stray black tendrils of hair on the ice and the spot on his head that was more disheveled than the rest.

"Oh, Yuri... I'm not going to hurt you. It's only me. Viktor's going to help you, sweetie. Come here."

But his words did not reach the other. He scooted further away until he was up against the wall, shaking and whimpering pathetically.

"D...Don't... Don't come...any...closer..." he breathed hoarsely. "D-Don't come near me!"

Viktor was not about to give up. He inched ever so slightly closer to the miserable mess of Yuri with an outstretched hand. His demeanor was filled with nothing but compassion and concern as he neared the panicking man. He was doubtless of the fear that was corrupting him and was careful in the speed of his actions so as not to frighten him further.

"Yuri, everything's alright. Vitya's here to help you feel better." he tried, cautious not to use rough sounds like the "K" sound. Smoother words would work better, he knew. His words were accompanied by a more successful attempt at approaching him, and Yuri soon had a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the contact and was promptly gasping for air, as if the air around him had been deprived of oxygen. Viktor noticed his eyes glazing over as he was on the verge of passing out and knew he had to take action, and quickly.

He saw no other path to choose that would not worsen the situation, and so he pulled Yuri into a hug while also taking note of Yuri's heart pounding against their bodies and the fast, irregular intakes of air. Viktor lovingly massaged his back.

"You're doing great, Yuri. Just listen to the steady beat of my heart... Take deep breaths now... Just in...and out..." he soothed while taking slow, deep breaths and hoping he would follow suit. Yuri still shivered weakly despite the warmth of Viktor's embrace, but there was some noticeable improvement in his physical state as he was gradually matching his breath with the other's. His eyes drifted shut when he was almost relaxed, his senses returning to him one by one.

"...Viktor?" he asked tiredly when he was able to register just who it was that was holding him. Viktor hushed him with a gentle sound.

"Shh, Yuri. Relax."

Yuri yawned and rested his head against Vitya's slender frame, relishing in the safety of his arms.

"Hm? What's wrong?"

Yuri was frozen. In the darkness beneath his eyelids he saw Viktor, staring at him with a disappointed look on his features. He turned his back to him and walked away, and Yuri tried to catch up to him, but he was stuck in the ground. Every step Viktor took was a bit further down he sunk until only his head and arm were visible. He reached desperately for him, but he just kept walking away. The darkness faded into a familiar scene. His last Grand Prix Final, when he botched his every jump. Everyone was laughing at him, his own family shunned him, and Viktor was among the other skaters, laughing, louder than the others. He flaunted his newest gold medal and strode up to him, promptly kicking him with the picks of his skate. The world swirled around him and faded to black.

"Yuri?"

In reality, none of that happened...but it was too real. New tears dripped down his cheeks, soaking Viktor's shirt in the process.

"Hey now, what happened?"

Yuri barely heard him, he could only hear the echoes of the crowd in his mind. He cried silently at first, amplifying the intensity as time progressed and as Viktor was growing increasingly uneasy.

"Viktor... Please...please don't go..." He whimpered to the older male through clothing. "Please don't leave me!"

"What?" he questioned, newly concerned. This was a strange request from him, especially since they were so close to Nationals. Why would he leave him now?

"I know you want to leave, Viktor! But I don't want you to. I can't live without you!"

"Yuri..." he breathed. "I would never leave you. I care too much. It would break my heart to be separated from you. Please don't think such things, Yuri."

Yuri sought solace in Viktor's gentle embrace once more, reassuring himself slowly but surely. Those words wouldn't lie, right? And Viktor would never lie to him...right?

Viktor stroked his hair with the tenderest love he could possibly manage, so Yuri could not help but believe his words. He buried his face in Viktor's chest with every ounce of his waning strength and gripped his clothing in tight fists. Viktor took notice of Yuri's ragged breaths evening out in slumber and grinned at how adorably cute he was. But it was short lived when he released his jet black hair and saw his hand stained red. Now that he paid attention, there were scrapes and cuts everywhere, most of which were still bleeding. The sunrise only emphasized the crimson that covered both of them, nearly panicking him at the sheer magnitude of the damage. It was clear that some of the wounds were self-inflicted in the younger's anxiety attack as though he tried to lessen the emotional pain by creating physical hurt. The sight was all he needed to make his decision to carry him home and take care of him himself.

...

Yuri awoke the morning thereafter, numb in most places. He could not see the cause due to heavy blankets covering him up to his chin, so he fixed that problem. With a bit of difficulty, he yanked the covers off his body and was hit immediately with a wave of cold air. He shivered and glanced down to find that much of him was bandaged up and that he had on only his underwear. Nausea swept over his senses before he could question the events that transpired before he passed out. He retched promptly, spitting up everything left in his stomach onto the floor, which was not much. He moaned and curled up into a tight ball under the blankets, honestly miserable.

Footsteps were heard outside the room drawing closer until the door clicked open and a tall figure stepped in. In his hands he held fresh bandages and towels. Upon seeing Yuri's open eyes, he smiled. Then he saw the pile of vomit on the floor and the overall sorry state he was in.

"Aw, is my little Yuri not feeling well?" he crooned softly and pulled the covers off him. "Don't worry, I'm just going to change out your bandages, okay? And then I'll bring you some soup to help you feel all better!"

Yuri sagged in Viktor's grip as he was moved around tenderly; he had no strength left to support a single limb, so he simply had to trust the one manipulating him.

"V...Viktor?" he whispered weakly and gained the attention of the one in question. He continued his movements, but paid special attention to Yuri.

"Yes, sweetie?" The use of the title did not fluster Yuri like it usually did.

"What happened...?"

He stopped momentarily in confusion, but then realized that an episode like that followed by fainting cannot always be remembered, especially by him.

"You had a panic attack yesterday at the Ice Palace. I caught you late in the episode, when you were already injured like this." He gestured to the bandages covering him head to toe.

Yuri blushed slightly, in contrast to his pale skin. "I-I'm sorry... You shouldn't have to see that."

"Nonsense, Yuri. I'm glad that I came when I did so I could help you. Who knows what could have happened if I wasn't there."

He looked away in shame while Viktor finished his job.

"Vitya?"

"Yes, Yuri?"

"...I'm cold. Can you... I mean... I don't want..."

Viktor grinned widely and hushed him, knowing what he wanted. He crawled into bed next to the shy boy and lifted him slightly, resting Yuri's head on top of his chest. He could feel Yuri relax with the contact and took it a step further by stroking his back with one hand and caressing his head with the other. He whispered soothingly into his ear three words and kissed his cheek gently.

"Goodnight, my darling."

"Goodnight," he returned quietly, sinking into Viktor's warmth and letting himself be lulled to sleep by his steady breaths and his calm, reassuring heartbeat.

It, he knew, was a heart that would never lie and would always meet him where he was at when he opened up to him.

There truly was nothing quite like Viktor...

**Author's Note:**

> The very first Yuri on Ice fanfic I ever wrote. I hope you enjoy!


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